


because you loved her

by ZOMBIEDOG



Series: SELF-INDULGENT [11]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Other, listen i got emotional over molly and uhh this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 14:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20875640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZOMBIEDOG/pseuds/ZOMBIEDOG
Summary: Dutch Van Der Linde only left that mountain alive because the memory of Molly O'Shea still burned so brightly in your heart, because youlovedher.





	because you loved her

Another morning, another fight between Dutch and Molly. It always hurt to hear when Dutch would dismiss her, often so rudely as if she didn't have thoughts and feelings of her own as if his words didn't cut her deep and make her bleed in the most delicate places. You respected Dutch as a leader, he'd given you so much, a home and a family, a purpose, but you did _not_ respect him as a man. Everyone in camp tended to avoid Molly after these fights, giving her quiet side-eyes and whispering amongst themselves as she would isolate herself to the outside of camp, often staring out between the trees or just hiding away to cry. And it absolutely broke your heart every goddamn time. You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Molly O'Shea, but you knew every time she would give that smile that didn't reach her eyes, or she would quietly clasp her hands together and sit alone in Dutch's tent, you wanted nothing more than to wrap her in your arms and hold her close to your chest and let her know you loved her. But you couldn't. Because she loved Dutch. And no matter how much it hurt, you would respect that. Because you loved her.

But there were times where Molly would silently seek you out, that fake smile on her lips (and her eyes misty with unshed tears), and she would ask if you could take her out on a ride, her smile turning just a little more sincere and tender when you would say yes and helped her up into the saddle of your horse, careful not to crinkle or dirty the fabrics of her dress. Sometimes it shocked you how easily you could read Molly, letting her have the saddle to herself and merely walking alongside your horse on the days where she couldn't stand the touch of anyone but Dutch (and those were the worst days), or when you would sit in front of her, allowing her to wrap her arms so tightly around you, you could feel every individual breath, and a selfish part of you wished she'd never let go. But she wasn't yours to court or hold, not yours to cherish and kiss and lavish with love, but that would never stop you from being there for her when she needed you.

There were times where she wanted to sit in silence, huddled close and maybe (on the bad days) crying into your shoulder, your arms wrapped around her and hiding her away from the cruel world that seemed to want nothing more than to beat her down. And then there were times where she wanted to scream and yell and those were the days that scared you, the days where you could see the anger and loneliness in her eyes, those were the days where you wanted nothing more than to kiss her and tell her everything was going to be ok, you were going to_ make_ everything ok. But you didn't. You could only hold her as close as she would allow, and let her scream and cry and do whatever she needed, and you would support her with all you could. Because you loved her.

In a perfect world, Molly would leave Dutch, and she would be yours. Or at least, she would be happy, would be able to genuinely smile, have the life she was always meant to have, one where she was loved and cherished and never treated as the second best. But this wasn't a perfect world, no matter how much you wished or bled to make it so, it just wasn't. Molly loved Dutch, adored him, more than anything, and it was a fact you knew painfully well. You were never one to envy, but oh how you wished to stand where he did, to be able to kiss her tears away and soothe her sorrows, to hold her close and see the deepest parts of her she only showed him. But you weren't Dutch, and you never would be. And you were at peace with that. Because you loved her.

The nights where she would drink too much, talk too loudly, and stumble around camp, you would always escort her to your tent and hide her away from the prying and judgemental eyes of the others. You would guide her to lay on the cot you pitifully called a bed, your back turned to her to guard the entrance to the tent, always at the ready to jump up and defend her from any drunk bastard that even stumbled too close in her direction. And when she would drunkenly plate your hair and giggle endlessly, you would lean your head back with a sigh and watch her. The joy in her eyes and the way her nose crinkled in that certain way, the freckles dotting her skin always seeming to dance at every movement. You used to think it would be impossible to love someone this much, but every time you looked at Molly O'shea, you felt your heart swell with a love stronger and deeper than anything you'd ever once felt in all your years of living. And you'd play guard the entire night until dawn would break and she would stumble back to Dutch's tent with a hang-over, but you never once complained. Because you absolutely _adored_ her.

And you remembered all the times she would whisper to you about leaving. Leaving the gang, leaving Dutch, leaving this life and trying to find a sense of stability she so desperately craved. And you wanted nothing more than to encourage her, to grab her hand and guide her to your horse, to ride like hell to the nearest train station and set her on the path to a new life. But she was loyal, to the gang, to Dutch, to this little make-shift family. And the thought of truly leaving it behind hurt. You understood, so you never brought the topic up, never spoke of it, only listening. Because she trusted you.

But what hurt the most is all of the almosts that would haunt you. The almost kiss, the almost escape, the almost life you could've had with her. She'd been loyal to Dutch to the very goddamn end but he was so blinded by lies and greed that he couldn't see that. The look of shock and pain on her face that day would haunt you for the rest of yours. You'd been the only one to actually bury her, refusing to let her be burnt like some nobody. Even when you had to bury her yourself, you never set the shovel down until she was in the ground and (hopefully) at peace. Because you loved her.

And when you met Dutch on that mountain, you almost pulled the trigger then and there. Standing there before him with your revolver aimed straight at his heart, Sadie and John flanking either side of you, you were so close to getting the revenge Molly so rightfully deserved, but you couldn't do it. Because she loved him, even to her dying moment she loved him, she was loyal and faithful. And when you looked at that ragged and tired look in his eyes, you saw Molly, and you didn't have the heart to pull the trigger. Because she loved him and you loved her.

Dutch Van Der Linde only left that mountain alive because the memory of Molly O'Shea still burned so brightly in your heart, because you _loved_ her.


End file.
